𝟎𝟔𝟑.                     𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬

family line         ────          conan gray

( brooke is very "family line" coded this
season )

☀︎ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖫𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣𝖲 𝖣𝖠𝖣 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖨 𝖲𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖤𝖣 𝖶𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖥𝖴𝖫𝖫 𝖮𝖥 𝖫𝖮𝖠𝖳𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦．John B had stormed out of the Chateau because Dad was wanting to sell our Twinkie for more money to find the gold. With John B storming out, I was about to run after him as I wanted to check on him, but Dad stopped me and we fought and fought and fought until he gave up. I found out that day that I was relatively good at holding my own. Anything and everything unleashed that day. My unhappiness as a kid, my need to be alone, my hatred for fishing── everything necessary and unnecessary erupted.

I woke up the next morning with a constricted throat from screaming and crying, and a burn on my face that only hurt more when I thought really, really hard about the fight.

I woke up the following morning to Dad gone.

Never did I think he wouldn't come home after that. Never did the thought cross my mind that he would be lost at sea or killed. For two whole months, John B and I assumed our dad had been killed by the Ward Cameron, but instead he really has just been missing for eleven months.

Now he's no longer missing. Now he's standing right here, staring up at us.

I don't move. I can't move. My brain is struggling to comprehend that the man standing before me isn't just a picture anymore. He isn't on my bedside, watching over me. No, he is real. My brain can't formulate a thought, not one of language anyway, so I just stay frozen to the spot, staring at somebody familiar.

Part of me wishes the ground would swallow me whole, but another part of me wants to sprint down the rest of these steps and reach him just to check if he actually is real and not a figment of my imagination.

But then he speaks, and the thought of him being a figment of my mind are squashed. "What took you kids so long? I've been ringing for hours."

I think back to the last time we heard his voice. On that tape recorder that Dad left for us── that was the last time I heard his voice. I cried that night, harder than I had in a while, but that was also the first night I felt great contempt towards this idea of it just being John B and I. That sounds cruel, and while I loved── love my father, I felt calmer without him. I felt at peace.

Now it's no longer John B and I. No, it's us now ── the Routledges. John B, Dad and I.

It's not been the three of us in a long time.

John B steps away from me, charging down the rest of the steps to reach our father who embraces him immediately. I continue to stand, feet fused to the stone as I stare forward, watching my brother and father with glistened eyes. John B holds on to Dad with such a force that I fear they'll be conjoined if he continues. I hear crying, from who I don't know, perhaps from me, but regardless, I hear sniffling and quiet sobs as father and son reunite.

Over John B's shoulder, Dad looks up at me and while I know he's staring at me, I'm not looking at him. I should look at him, that much I know. I mean, this man is basically back from the dead after being gone for nearly eleven months, and I can't bring myself to even look him in the eye.

No, instead of watching my father, I'm watching my brother, knowing that this must be the moment he's waited the past eleven months for, and now that's he's got it... I don't know what'll happen, but if I keep staring at John B, maybe it'll start to make sense.

It's us now── John B and Dad. And me.

I blink, eyes meeting Dad's as he and John B remain wrapped as one.

While I know I inherited my father's eyes, I never say that I have his eyes. Instead I always say that I have my brother's eyes. Differing shades of brown, chocolate and hazel all swirled together to create mine and my brother's eyes that we, technically, inherited from our father, but I think we created our own colour somewhere down the road.

As I stare into my father's eyes, I now find that having my brother's eyes is more true than it ever has been. I don't recognise these eyes that look back up at me, but how could I? It's been far too long since I looked at him, and I'm unsure on how to feel or how I'm supposed to act. The last time I looked into those eyes that resemble mine, all I saw was hatred and loathing and upset. The eyes looking back at me are not the same.

John B pulls back from Dad, head turning to look in my direction. I swallow, flicking my eyes between Dad and John B, and all this feels too real now. It's been eleven months since I've seen John B and Dad standing side by side. I feel sick. They look similar, that I've always noticed, but I don't look like Dad... I don't think I do anyway.

I don't want to imagine what John B must be thinking at this given moment. He's probably shocked that I'm not running to Dad, hugging him and crying like a little girl. Despite the tense relationship we had while I was growing up, I should be running into my dad's arms as he's supposedly been dead all this time, but I'm not running. John B must be so... mad at me.

Dad's alive. Why am I not moving? Why am I not screaming and crying and jumping into his arms? I came all this way, suspecting this would happen yet I can't move a muscle. What the hell is wrong with me?

Dad opens his mouth, about to speak, and I feel my heart plummet to the ground as I become fearful of what he's going to say, but I'm saved just before he speaks. We hear somebody call out from outside the tower followed by several more voices. The guards.

I snap my head away from Dad, a thousand unspoken words hanging between us that we will have to speak soon, but right now we're about to be caught by guards who shouldn't even know that we're here. I swallow, swiping my hand across my eye as tears swell, threatening to make an ugly appearance.

"We gotta vanish," Dad tells, and I finally feel the life in my feet again as I take a single step down, moving to join my brother and father.

Dad is already moving, heading towards the furthest exit that the guards aren't stationed at, and I'm being pushed in front of John B who barely shares a glance with me.

Following Dad blindly, I follow him outside where we're instructed to duck and stay low. For what reason, I don't know, but I do as told.

I always do as told.

We press ourselves against the wall of the tower, and Dad peers around the corner. "They're coming this way," he utters, pulling back and looking over at us.

John B places a hand on Dad's arm. "The Pogues," he begins. "The marina. They've got a boat." I seriously doubt they're still at the marina. "Come on. Follow me."

John B stands, moving away and I follow him along with Dad. We're forced into a run again, but I lag behind the two of them as they sprint ahead, moving to get away from the vehicle that will catch us if we don't move now.

As we run back down the hill, Dad slaps a hand on John B's shoulder, huffing out a laugh. "Oh, it's good to see you, kid." He might've said 'kids', but I swear I didn't hear the plural. Whatever.

"Yeah, you too, Pop. Come on."

Picking up my pace, I charge past Dad, feeling a familiar burn behind my eyes that never really faded, I guess. Attempting to ignore the pain, I charge down the steps, now moving to be in front of John B instead of behind everybody else.

I want to be a leader, not a fucking follower like always, so I run, not even afraid that I could trip on these rickety steps.

Once we stumble down the hill, reaching that fence John B and I ducked under before we found Dad, we stop running, but I continue to walk ahead, silently praying that our friends are still at the marina because I really want to see JJ right now. His presence alone will make the racing in my heart and the constriction in my throat stop.

God, I really need him.

Remember when he and I talked about what superpower we wish we could have? Yeah, instead of time travel, I now want teleportation because I'd go straight to him in a heartbeat instead of being in this situation. 

I'm horrible, aren't I? My dad is back after supposedly being dead for eleven months, and I can't even muster up a smile or words for that matter. I truly am a horrible daughter.

I fall into step with John B instead of storming ahead. We managed to get away, we should be fine for now. I can slow the fuck down. I still don't know what to say nor do I actually want to speak, so I just remain silent while I walk.

"Okay, Dad. Start talking," John B says. "So you've been alive this whole time and you didn't think to call?" I mean, one phone call would've been terrific. Hell, even a letter carried by a pigeon or a letter sent via a bottle would've been great. Instead we got nothing.

"What, you think I didn't want to? It killed me not to, but it would've put you two in danger."

I scoff, as does my brother. "Well, we were in danger the entire time you were gone," he argues.

"Hey, look." Dad stops, placing a hand on John B's shoulder, and while I'm happy to keep on walking away, I can't on account of John B snatching my arm before I have the chance. He pulls me to stand beside him and pins me with a hard stare, one that reads, just hear him out, B. God, I hate him sometimes.

"We're here now, okay?" Dad looks from John B to me, and I realise we've said... well, nothing to one another yet. Huh. Just like old times. "And I'm not going anywhere. I just had to vanish for my safety. And for both of yours."

He didn't have to do anything, that's such bullshit. Do I say that? No, but I definitely should. I don't know what's happened. Usually, I'm more outspoken than this but it seems I've curled up into my shell like a snail would. I've reverted back to my old, lonely child years where I'd coop up in my bedroom and draw. I feel like that helpless little girl, I'll be honest.

John B looks at me but I stare at the ground, suddenly taking great fascination in my shoes. "It wasn't my first choice," Dad continues, both of his hands on John B's shoulders now. "You've gotta know that, okay?" John B nods, hearing him but I don't know if truly believes what he's saying.

"Now let's go find your friends."

Please still be here.

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𝖴𝖭𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖳𝖴𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖫𝖸，𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖭𝖣𝖲 𝖶𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖯𝖴𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖣 𝖮𝖥𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖨𝖲𝖫𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖡𝖸 𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖧．We tried to call them but the reception sucked, but hopefully they got this gist of what we were saying. We encouraged them to head back to OBX, and told them about Dad being alive but I'm unsure if they heard that.

As of right now, instead of going home, we're at Dad's place.

Yes, that's right. Dad has his own place right here in freaking Barbados. He's been living it up while John B and I have been worried sick about him for months. He also has his own boat which we'll be using to get back to OBX and back to our friends who I really, really need to see.

I stand in my dad's new home, peering around at how familiar it feels. It's familiar to the Chateau in the way that's it's small and homey and just right for him. It's made entirely of wood with one bedroom, one bathroom, and a large open space where the kitchen resides alongside the living room that holds a decaying plant. It has a few imperfections, but the Chateau does too.

It's... nice.

"Here it is," Dad says, rushing towards the bedroom. "The spider hole." He always named things── fishing rods, boats, houses. This place is no different, it seems.

"Spider hole..." John B nods. "Good name."

He peers at me, but I don't look at him, not needing to know what he's thinking based off the look he's likely giving me. He's disappointed, that much I can sense, but I don't care right now. All I want is to go home, and Dad is our only hope. I can't believe I'm saying that.

John B steps over to the table in the middle of the room, finding a large map and a magnifying glass to be laid upon it. Throughout our childhood, we saw a very similar scene to what's lying before us, so that only brings up one familiar question. "Still hunting, huh, Pop?"

Like he'd ever give it up, John B.

"I'm breathing, I'm hunting, man, what can I say?" Dad steps into the room again, a backpack slung over his shoulder this time. "This time I'm putting it all together, kids," he tells us as I watch John B pick up a book labelled, El Dorado, The Great Legend. My eyes hone in on that familiar name, remembering Singh to have mentioned it. "Getting close, I can feel it. Onto something big."

It's like freaking deja vu hearing Dad talk like this about something that is so not important.

John B turns away, watching Dad rummage through shelves. "I, uh... We heard you died at the Shoals, Dad?"

"Yeah, well, somebody died out there. It wasn't me." He stuffs a few things into his backpack before he lifts himself up, moving towards the cabinets in the kitchen. There he pulls out a handgun, and my eyes go wide as I watch him load it up. "Look. Just gotta go on a little retrieval mission. Then we can split."

I flash my eyes up to John B, and he has the same look in his eye── concern. "Whoa, whoa, Dad." John B steps away from me, moving towards Dad who looks just about ready to pounce. "Dad, wait. Retrieved mission? A gun? No, what──" He snatches Dad's arm as he stuffs ammo into his backpack. "What are we doing?"

Why would he need a gun?

Dad grabs both of John B's shoulders, staring right at him as he talks. "The game is afoot. Okay, kid? Right now. And this time it's for the mother lode, the big kahuna, all the marbles."

I shake my head, feeling my skin crawl as I hear him talk like that again after all this time. I watch as he pulls my brother back into another hug like all is solved. I feel sick to my stomach, watching as John B just accepts his lame reasoning behind wanting to go rouge. I mean, it's been months since he's seen us, and he wants to go chasing after more treasure. Seriously?

We're his kids, and he's barely taken a second to acknowledge the fact that we're here.

I chew my words, swallow them down, and take a step back as Dad pulls away from John B. "But if we don't move out, like, right now, the game is gonna end early. Alright?" John B nods, just accepting whatever bullshit he spews. "It ain't just Singh that's after us. I got mixed up with Limbrey and a whole lot of things."

Dad heads out the door, leaving that information right at our feet. Limbrey knew our father was alive? We met her and she knew? Does that mean that Dad knew about John B being arrested and thrown in prison? What?

"Did you just say Limbrey?" Dad clears his throat, looking over at his son. "Like, Carla Limbrey?"

"Yeah," he exhales loudly. "How do you think we got a boat?"

John B sighs, looking defeated because yes, Dad is still the same. He glances at me as I stand with my arms crossed. He wants my help, I can see it in his eyes, but I ain't saying a damn word. I love him, but he's on his own for this one. Sorry.

"Look, she helped me out a little bit," Dad explains. "It's logistics, etcetera, but now that I found you kids, I'm gonna owe her something. Better to pay later than now." Dad looks from John B to me, and I immediately drag my eyes off him. "I can explain it all."

Yeah. You fucking better.

"We gotta go." With that, Dad turns away from us, heading right out the door with his bag slung over his shoulder.

John B picks up another one of Dad's bags, throwing it over to me and I catch it easily. "It would be great if you spoke, B."

Without saying a word, I step over to him, pushing the bag back into his arms as I ain't carrying a damn thing. I then storm past him and follow after Dad because, like I said before, I always do as told. It's a bad habit.

From Dad's home in Barbados, we head to his boat, and once we're out at sea, everything becomes very, very real to me. Dad is alive, and he's here, chasing after another mission that will likely lead to another loss. Why am I dealing with this? Why didn't I just stay on the boat with everybody else?

I watch as Dad and John B bond like a father and son would, and I feel my chest tighten, the burning in the back of my eyes returning. He── my brother── is the reason I didn't get on that boat and instead chased after something that I never thought could be true, but I ended up being wrong because look where we are.

Dad is alive and he's here, driving us to a mission that could get us killed.

But, hey. At least he's got a gun.

I don't know where we end up nor do I care. I just want this to be over so we can go home. I've never wanted to be home so badly, but here I am, indulging in the mission for Dad's sake just so I can go home.

I need to be back with JJ. I feel safe with him.

After tying the boat up at the dock, I follow Dad. I still haven't spoken. I haven't said one word since seeing Dad again, and that's rare for me.

You guys know. I speak a lot, right?

I mean, this story is about me after all. I should be able to talk, but I can't.

I actually hate not talking, but I'm almost too afraid to let myself talk in front of Dad. I don't know why. It's truly pathetic. I wish I could explain the reasoning behind it but I can't, so I just stay silent.

I'll speak eventually.

The three of us step into some kind of antique store, I don't know, but we're introduced to a man who goes by RJ. We follow Dad and RJ, continuing to act like blind mice as we trail after Dad without a clue in the world.

His retrieval mission is in an antique store?

"So, what are you doing here, John?" RJ asks, and this discontent in his voice gives me the impression that he doesn't like my father.

Get in line, buddy.

The next thing I hear is the cocking of a gun, and my entire body seizes as I don't expect it. I feel a hand wrap around my wrist, instantly pulling me back. My eyes flicker from Dad to the gun in his hand, feeling John B's hand squeeze at my wrist. What the fuck.

So that's why he needed a gun, I guess.

"Sorry for the strong arm, RJ." Dad speaks with such a calming tone that it's eerie. "But we're pressed for time. I can't get bogged down in a protracted negotiation."

RJ crouches down, looking at our father over his shoulder. "Really? You pull a gun on me?" He exhales, sounding like he's fed up with his shit. "Your partner, who saved your life?" We watch as RJ begins to turn the cog on the safe.

"If you knew what happened to my last partner, you wouldn't hold it against me," Dad comments, continuing to talk in that deadly calm tone. I feel ill just listening to him. "And I knew you'd buck at the finish line. Just give me the piece."

Still standing behind my brother's back, John B looks up at our father. "Armed robbery, really?" This man is supposed to be our role model, figuratively speaking, and look at him pulling a gun out on people. Some role model, huh?

"It's not robbery," Dad bites back. "The piece is mine. Ain't that right, RJ?"

The safe unlocks, and RJ comes to a stand as he brings something out of the safe. Whatever it is, it's wrapped in a cloth. "I think an impartial judge would say the ownership is debatable."

"Oh, great," John B utters, his head dropping.

"As you can see, I kept my part of the bargain, partner." Dad lets go of the gun which I'm relieved about, and RJ places the object on the table before us. "Here it is safe and sound. Just like I promised."

He unravels the object, and as I wait for it to be something resembling gold or real treasure, I find myself to be very disappointed── like always. Instead, I find myself staring at a piece of stone that Dad has missed.

"Here, kids. Take a look at this."

No, thanks. I think I'll just go outside and stare at the gravel.

John B and I, doing as we're told, lean forward to get a better look at the piece of rock in Dad's hands. "The Signpost of Orinoco," he tells.

Orinoco sounds familiar to me as I swear that was the name of the room I was forced into while at Singh's house. Hmm.

"Signpost of what?"

"This way lies the treasure, that sort of thing," he explains. "At least we think that's what it says. Next stop, El Dorado." He turns the stone in his hand to reveal all these hieroglyphics that nobody, not even him, can make sense of.

"Yeah, if you can find the other half... and if you can decipher it, maybe," RJ speaks, not sounding the least bit sure that Dad can be the one to do such a task. "And I'm going to want my cut," he adds on. "Don't think I won't come after you if I don't get it."

Ah, threats. I love that.

"If this thing works out, you'll never have to sell a knockoff God of Fire and War ever again."

Well, isn't that what every man wants to hear?

The bell at the door rings, and a man speaks up from outside this room. "Arjun! You here?"

"Don't move," RJ instructs, stepping past us and out into the hallway.

We then hear him say, "Mr. Singh!" My eyes bulge, realising that we are seconds from being caught and killed. Shit. "What a surprise!" He steps away, going to talk with Singh and his guards, but we don't hear anything else he says as we turn to our father, knowing damn well that we need a plan to get us out of here alive.

"Here, take this." He pushes the precious rock── artefact── into John B's hands. "Take this over to that window. Go." Dad pushes John B towards the window, and I instinctively follow after my brother, helping him out so we can get out of this window.

I step up to the window, pulling at the handle but it won't budge. It's just my luck, I realise, but I don't let the stuck window stop me. I move towards the table, rummaging through RJ's belongings before retrieving a knife. I then step up to the window again, jamming the knife into the handle and turning it so it unlatches. I hear Dad telling me to be quiet, but if he wants to get out of here, I gotta make some noise.

The window unlatches and I pull the grate off, placing it to one side before I peer up and out of the small gap to check if any of the guards are outside. "Is the coast clear?" John B asks, placing the artefact down gently.

I nod, lifting myself up and through the small window without a second thought. I pull myself through, and I fall forward, landing on some cardboard boxes. I look down the alley I've fallen into, still finding there to be nobody here.

I then look back to the window, holding out my arms as John B hands off the artefact to me. Part of me is tempted to smash this thing, grab my brother and make a run for it, but who am I to do something as cruel as that? Besides, John B would never leave Dad behind, and a small part of me can't leave my father behind not when we just got him back.

I'm just mean.

John B falls through the window next, and I pull him up, handing the artefact off to him as I don't trust myself with it. With a beckoning to Dad, he pulls himself through the window too, joining us on the disregarded cardboard and he takes the artefact from John B once he's on his feet.

Good. It's his responsibility anyway.

Don't know why he loves it so much, but I'm sure he'll tell us eventually. Or, at the least, just tell my brother.

Just when I think we've escaped with ease, a gunshot fires, the piercing sound travelling by my ear. I'm yanked down, and pushed forward as several more shots are fired.

"Go!" Dad pushes John B forward and we fall into step, me up ahead as we begin to run. "Go. Go!" Thankfully, the dock isn't too far from here, so with the little strength I have, I bolt, using every muscle to run again.

Fuck. I hate running.

I've said that before, I know I have, but I've never hated something so much in my life.

I sprint ahead, running down the length of the dock to reach our boat which, of course, is parked right at the end of this stinking line of boats. More shots are fired and cars start to head in our direction, and just when I think we'll never make it out of this alive, I reach our boat and I immediately start to untie it.

I don't know how we do it, and I don't know how we're not dead, but we get away with little to no complications.

The moment I'm on the boat and Dad is driving us away from the firing squad, I lean my head onto John B's shoulder, feeling like I could cry and scream and hit something all at once, and because I think he needs just as much comfort as I do, he lifts his arm, letting it fall over my shoulders in a gentle embrace.

I look to Dad who presses a kiss to the cloth that covers the artefact.

Always something more to love, huh, Dad?

I still haven't said a word.

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𝖨'𝖬 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖭𝖣𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖳 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖮𝖶 𝖮𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖮𝖠𝖳，𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖳 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖶𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖱，𝖶𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖨 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖫𝖣 𝖡𝖤 𝖠𝖭𝖸𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖡𝖴𝖳 𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤．The sun has set, and as I watched it set, I wondered if JJ looked at it and thought of me. I said I wouldn't leave his side again, but look what I've done. I left his side, and I really wish I hadn't. I'd love nothing more to be in his presence, believe me.

John B and Dad are in the cabin, talking and drinking, and while I know I should go in there and bond or whatever shit they're doing, I can't seem to bring myself to move.

I've seriously become a shell of myself.

Just go in there, B. Face the music. You have to.

I haven't spoke in hours, and my throat feels dry. All I want to do is speak, but every time I look at Dad, I feel every emotion under the sun. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to leap into his arms and hug him tightly. I want to ask him all kinds of questions and hope that he'll be truthful.

I feel different around Dad, I always have.

When this story began, nobody knew how I was when Dad was around, but now you get to see the picture, and it ain't pretty.

I'm quiet, reserved, and I hide myself.

But I can't keep doing that. This man is my dad, and I should be able to work up enough courage to go inside that cabin and talk with him and my brother like the old times. Although, even in those old times, I never actually spent much time with them as I preferred to hide in my room with a sketchbook. In a way, I'm still like that.

I inhale the air, knowing what I need to do.

Go in there, B. Be brave. Stop hiding.

I turn my body away from the water, ready to go in there and "face the music" or whatever. However, I come to a stop as my body nearly crashes into another. My eyes lift ever so slightly and, of course, like a fucking wave crashing into a rock, I find my dad standing before me.

This is the first time I've been this close to him since discovering he's alive, and there's only one thing that I want to do in this moment.

Without speaking, I crush my body against my dad's, wrapping my arms around him in a tight, bone-crushing embrace that has him stumbling back. With how tight I hold on, I feel as if I have the power to morph us into one being, but I don't loosen my hold on him. I stay in my father's arms, pretending to be that little girl who still loved her father regardless of all that happened.

I hear him exhale, his own arms wrapping around me, and I feel the burning behind my eyes return as the tears finally make their appearance. One hand comes up to drag through my hair, and the feeling is similar to the one he would offer me whenever I'd have a nightmare as a kid. He used to send me right back to sleep by stroking my hair. It feels familiar. It feels nice.

His other closes around my back, keeping me against him. The warmth of having my dad back brings a sob out of me, and I bury my head into his shoulder, realising that I needed this the entire time, but I was too afraid to ask for it.

I might be a hypocrite, especially given all I've said about my dad since he's returned, but I just want to be that little girl again who still thinks her dad had something to do with the moon being hung. I just want to be that little girl who loved her dad more than life itself. I want to be that little girl again when the treasure didn't mean as much as we did.

Sadly, I don't get to be that little girl again, but it sure is nice to play pretend.

Still holding onto Dad, I keep my chin pressed on his shoulder. "Hi, Dad." My voice cracks, likely from the tears and because those two words are the first I've spoke in hours.

Still stroking my hair, Dad breathes out a sigh. "Hey, Brookie." I huff out a laugh, more tears trickling down my cheeks as I feel my heart swell from simply hearing him call me that ridiculous nickname he gifted me years ago.

When he pulls back, he keeps his hands on my face, something of a smile on his lips as he looks at me. "Come on, kid." He presses a kiss against my forehead which, I won't lie, feels perfect. He wipes away the tears with the pads of his thumbs, and the act alone brings more tears to my eyes.

His arm then falls around me as he pulls me towards the cabin where we find John B. He's smiling, and I suspect he had something to do with Dad coming out to see me.

Whatever. I can play pretend tonight, can't I?

Just for one night.

With my glass of water and their shots of whiskey, we clink our glasses together. "To life, living, and the pursuit of... treasure."

"That's a good one," John B comments, throwing back the shot beside me as I sip on my water.

The giant artefact sits beside me, and I can't help but want to reach out and ask about it. I'm playing pretend tonight, so I can indulge in all that Dad will tell us regardless of how bad it may seem. I don't really have much interest in this thing, but I have a thousand unanswered questions about Dad and how he came to be right here of all places.

I pick up the artefact, running my finger over the hieroglyphics. "So, what's the deal with this whole big kahuna thing?" I ask, still surprised to hear my own voice. "I mean, how did you end up in Barbados?"

"Well, same way you did and for the same reason too," Dad answers, and it's a little vague, but I hope he explains. "The treasure. And Carlos Singh." I nod along, placing the artefact down as I still feel like I'll drop it. "Your brother tells me he, uh, kidnapped you."

I glance at John B who just shrugs in response. I clear my throat, holding the glass of water in hand as I look to Dad. "Uh, yeah. He did."

"Yeah, well, I'm not surprised given what I did to him," he speaks, and I suspect he's going to clarify what he means. "I was marooned out on the Shoals for what felt like months, living on seaweed and sweat and rainwater, and fixed myself up to be crab food. Thought I was a goner."

Because I obviously love my father, it's hard to hear that he suffered greatly before he was found. He was alone, ready to die, and that pains me to know that we weren't there to help him.

"Singh must have tracked my boat, then his men showed up. He must have known I was onto something because they found me," he tells us, speaking easily like he's retold this story a bunch of times. "At first, I thought I was being rescued. Turns out it was less of a rescue mission, more of a captivity-type deal."

"I didn't go without a fight." I huff out a laugh, knowing no Routledge goes down without a fight. "We left one of his men behind as I'm sure you've heard. Next thing I know I'm being shipped off to Barbados. Singh's place."

Sounds similar to what happened to me except Dad must've been trapped there for much, much longer than I ever had to be.

"They locked me up in some audacious estate surrounded by cane fields and armed guards as you know." Dad looks towards me and I nod slowly, not wishing to relive the awful memory of being locked up in that place with Rafe.

"I meet this particular little man, Singh. He wants to cut a deal with me. He wants me to tell him everything I know in exchange for him keeping me alive," he continues, and John B and I listen carefully, and I find myself reminiscing on all those times when he used to tell us stories before bed. "But it didn't take long before I caught on to the game. So as soon as I got a chance, I took it. Got roughed up by Singh's men, but I made it out. And not empty-handed."

He holds the artefact in his hands, holding it up with a familiar smile on his lips. "And here I am, back with my kids." He chuckles, and we smile fondly.

Dad pours himself and John B another shot, and I watch as they down their shots while I sip on my water, a little disappointed that I can't indulge in some alcohol as it would absolutely make me feel an ounce better, but Dad definitely doesn't want to see me drinking.

It doesn't matter. I'm just happy to be here, pretending there isn't something dark looming in the future.

"Enough about me. I want to hear about you," he says, looking directly at John B before his eyes shift over to me. "About both of you." I peer at my brother, wondering if he's going to share the news that he is basically married to a Cameron.

"Who are you sweet on these days, huh?" he asks, still looking at John B. I hide my smile behind my hand, watching him closely. "I know there must be someone."

"Oh, there's someone," I mutter.

"Yeah, like you can talk," John B bites out.

Dad turns his gaze to me. "You better be sweet on no one, kid." I hit my hand against John B's arm, wishing he hadn't said a damn word because now I'll have to tell Dad about JJ which I never, ever thought I'd get to do.

"I'm not the one who's married," I sing-song, taunting him for the comment that has Dad looking mortified that his only daughter has a guy in her life. I think he'll be okay with the guy though. I know he likes him, but I don't know if he'd like him as my boyfriend.

Dad snaps his head to John B while John B looks like he could murder me. Oops? Dad chuckles awkwardly, obviously not believing it. "You're joking, right?"

"No," John B replies simply.

Dad reaches for the bottle of whiskey which has me laughing. "What, is she pregnant?" he asks.

John B recoils, disgusted at the thought of being a parent so young. "No, no." He shakes his head. "God, no. No."

One day, I'll get to be Auntie B, but not right now, thank God.

"Yeah, I haven't really had time for the extracurricular activities," John B speaks, and now it's my turn to recoil.

"Oh, is that what you call it?" I shudder, appalled by his language as I take a long gulp of water, now wishing it was something a little stronger. "That's disgusting, John B."

Dad pours John B and himself another shot, ignoring me and continuing on. "You're a little young, ain't ya?"

"I mean, you said it best. If it's right, it's right." That's true, Dad did say that, and with JJ, it absolutely feels right to me, as I'm sure it does for John B and Sarah.

Dad sighs. "Do I know her? Uh, who is she?"

John B clears his throat, and I prepare for the worst as, you know, he's kind of married to the daughter whose father tried to kill our father. "Yeah. Yeah, you know her. Um..." John B glances at me, and I see the slight fear in his eyes as he picks up the shot glass full of whiskey, downing it in one fell swoop before he answers. "It's Sarah... Cameron."

There's a beat of silence between my father and my brother as I sit with my glass of water, trying to figure out which way this will go. Will he be mad? Will he be okay with it?

Dad removes his glasses, pinning John B with a stern look. "Ward's daughter?" John B opens his mouth to reply, but Dad talks again. "The queen of Kildare."

John B swallows. "Yeah."

"You just can't do things the easy way, can you?"

John B leans back against the seat, watching as Dad pours him another drink. "Are you mad?" John B asks, an etch of fear in his own voice as he doesn't want to upset Dad and let him down, not that he ever could.

"That you went for the big prize?" I scrunch my face up at the wording of that, but I drink my water and pretend he didn't say that. "Nah. How can I be mad about that?" Dad raises his glass, holding it towards John B.

John B's lips twitch in a smile as he raises his own glass, clinking it was Dad's. "Congratulations," Dad says, tilting his head and downing his own drink along with John B.

John B lifts his arm, placing it over my shoulders. "You'll never guess who B is with."

I try to shove him away but he just squeezes my shoulder and continues to laugh. "You better be with no one, kiddo." He points a finger over at me, and I drop my head, wishing I could throw myself in the freaking water.

"Well..." I exhale, lifting my head. "I'm sorry."

I tell him all about JJ, and for the first time in a long time, it feels really nice to play pretend.

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❀ soph speaks

big john is back . . .

brooke definitely has a bit of different relationship with her father than john b does, and you'll definitely see it

let my girl play pretend though, she deserves it after all that's happened

thanks for reading,, i promise next chapter we'll be right back to our favourite couple! :)